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<title>romeo and juliet weren't the only tragedy (i wish they were) by bruisedbutlovely</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282796">romeo and juliet weren't the only tragedy (i wish they were)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisedbutlovely/pseuds/bruisedbutlovely'>bruisedbutlovely</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>do you believe in fate? // sally and wilbur reverse au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Found Family, Goodbyes, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Letters, Mother-Son Relationship, Multiple Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Sally and Wilbur swap places, Sally leads the revolution and Wilbur is missing, Series, Story within a Story, Tags May Change, Tags are a mess sorry, Wilbur Soot Angst, Wilbur Soot is Floris | Fundy's Parent, reverse au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,091</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisedbutlovely/pseuds/bruisedbutlovely</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the pale moonlight and the warm light of the fire, the first few of L'Manburg ask their general to tell them a story. </p><p>And so, Sally tells them about the one that got away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>do you believe in fate? // sally and wilbur reverse au [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>133</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>romeo and juliet weren't the only tragedy (i wish they were)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>reverse au babyyyyyyyy</p><p>Phil is Wilbur's father but he has no brothers.</p><p>Sally started the drug van and revolution, she is also like an older sister to Tommy</p><p>this will be a series of oneshots in this same au so look out for them!</p><p>enjoy, i love all of you and take care of yourself</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It all started with a simple plea for Sally to tell them a story. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a summer night, one just like all the rest but something in the air was different, a sort of wind that felt like the end of a memory. Drinks were passed around and shared among friends because the glasses began to blend and did it really matter whose drink it was? The fireflies blinked in and out of existence, casting an almost heavenly glow on the clearing in the woods where six friends sat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A person named Eret, who had curly brown hair and dark sunglasses that hid eyes that shone so bright, sat near the fire, tending it with a care that not many had. Two boys, Tommy and Tubbo, sat to the side of the fire, one dressed in red and the other in green, and they leaned on each other, whispering jokes that no one else would get. A woman who was named Niki sat across from them, sewing a flag together slowly and chatting quietly with the one with the sunglasses, pushing the needle in and out with practiced ease. On the last side of the fire was a man with hair that matched the fire, burning bright and hot as he flipped between the two conversations that happened around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, there was a woman right next to him, red hair matching his own. She sat with an air of confidence and protection surrounding her and the others, a comforting feeling that made a haven. She didn’t give anything to the conversation, choosing instead to watch over the others with careful eyes and a soft smile on her face as she carefully wrote something in a book. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe, this was what home felt like. But home was a word that none of the people here truly knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why they were here, gathered around a small fire that was kept alive by their hands and the gentle wind that fed it. Maybe that’s why they laughed loudly and boldly, each knowing what it was like when there was nothing funny to light the way. Maybe that’s why they sat here in a budding nation where they could finally feel something that felt like hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, it felt like freedom, like a breath of fresh hair, like standing on a cliff before the ocean and knowing that you wouldn’t jump even though you once might have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They called it L’Manburg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sally?” Tubbo piped up, breaking out of his conversation with Tommy. Sally glanced at him, humming softly in question. “Will you tell us a story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What are we, Tubs, children?” Tommy joked but the look in his eye was undeniable as he looked at Sally. “We don’t need a story to go to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What do you want to hear about?” Sally looked back down at her book, dipping her quill carefully in ink. She can feel everyone’s eyes on her and she can’t help but smile because this, this was family and this was home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How about you?” Niki paused her sewing for just a second. “How did you get here, General, with a son and a new country?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was complicated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a name in Sally’s head but she isn’t sure if she can say it. There was a story in her head but she isn’t sure if she can tell it. There was a part of her past in her head but she isn’t sure if she’is ready to face it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her lover would have laughed at her and told the story himself. But he wasn’t here and she was alone and her son didn’t have a father and her lover was gone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she didn’t know where he went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A story,” Sally repeated as if she was unsure of her own answer. “I can tell you about Wil.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wil?” Eret tilted her head, leaning forward in his seat. “Who’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s my father,” Fundy was smiling and Sally would give anything to see her son smile. “Mom, tell us the story of how you met.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a long one, little kit. I don’t know if we have time for it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please,” Tommy and Tubbo plead together with Fundy nodding along. Sally gazed at Eret and Niki, finding them with that same shine in their eyes as the others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That shine in their eyes was precious, something so unseen in this time of uncertainty, of war, of unsureness. That shine only came at certain things; it came for Tommy when he played his discs, for Tubbo when they took care of his bees, for Niki when she was baking, for Eret when they were building, for Fundy when he and Sally simply sat by the river.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That shine was soft, to be protected with every part of one's being. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because once that shine was gone, it would never come back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, she set down her book and quill and searched her mind for the right words to begin the story but words were always her lover’s thing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me and Wilbur met on a warm summer day…”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>...in the middle of the woods just outside a small village. The village, its name long forgotten, rested on the banks of a river that, if followed for long enough, would lead to an ocean. The village was far away from what is now known as L’Manburg but if you traveled the river up, you would eventually find where the blackstone walls now stood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The village was a small trading port where many travelers came to rest and ships came through to either reach the ocean or travel on the river. It was a bustling village, always full of life, but, like everything, the life was always changing and fleeting for not many travelers chose to stay in the village.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The people of the village were used to change, used to people leaving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally was the only daughter and only child of an older couple that owned a small bookshop right near the dock. They were always filled with sailors and travellers who wanted something to enjoy on the voyage and Sally found most of her time was spent there, restocking the shelves and talking quietly to those who needed a push in the right direction of a book they would enjoy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>However, no matter how many books she read, Sally was never one for words. She enjoyed reading them, loved the way the story flowed from one character to the next but whenever she put her quill to paper, they never came out just right. And she was okay with that because she preferred the outdoors and the weight of a sword in her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was taught to fight by whoever came through the village whether it be knights, assassins, or duellers; it didn’t matter as long as she learned. And her parents watched over her with smiles, knowing that when the monsters came crawling out at night, she would protect them and the village. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One day, there was someone new in town. Since the village was so small, it was a type where everyone knew everyone and everyone knew that when the inn had another horse in the stable, there was another traveler passing through. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And because it was so small, by morning of the day after the newcomers arrived, people already knew who they were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A father and a son,” Sally’s mother told her when she came down for breakfast. “They’re very private, very secretive but the father has a netherrite sword. He might be your next teacher.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So when the sun was halfway through the sky, Sally set out to find the father. The other villagers said that he was blonde, wore a green striped bucket hat and was of an average build. They, however, were more focused on the son who was tall, lithe, and had curly brown hair; some didn’t believe they were father and son and simply used it as a cover for something else. It was no surprise that the storyteller of the village was the one spreading that rumor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally ended up finding the father in the marketplace near the port, buying various potion supplies and food. His name was Phil but he gave no last name. He was a pleasurable man who liked to laugh and when Sally asked for him to train her, Phil agreed. He showed off his sword to her, enchantments that Sally didn’t understand etched into it, but he didn’t let her hold it. Phil seemed to be a man where you had to earn his trust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Phil told her that he and his son would be in the village for an unknown amount of time, that something he wouldn’t describe caused them to move south. He then told her to meet him by the end of the boardwalk along the river tomorrow, at dawn. Then, he smiled at her softly and said that his son was about her age before walking away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t remember telling him her age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally returned home, triumphant, and decided to spend the rest of her day in the woods with an iron sword her parents gave her two birthdays ago. She didn’t know where exactly she was headed but she traveled through the woods without a care in the world, simply illuminated by the thought of learning more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It would be then she would stumble into a clearing where a boy with a guitar would be sitting, softly singing for no one but himself. And for a second, she would be stunned, simply watching the boy with a yellow sweater. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At first, Sally couldn’t say anything. She simply stood there and listened to his soft words and careful strums. And then, he opened his eyes and smiled at her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wilbur,” He said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sally.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally didn’t really remember what suddenly changed that made everything feel so different but something was different. They spent the entire afternoon in the woods together and for the first time, Sally barely stumbled over her words because they felt so natural around Wilbur. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the next day came and the next and the next. Sally and Phil would go into the woods to train until the sun was high in the air or until Wilbur came to drag her away. But Phil would only smile at the two as they disappeared deeper into the woods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally always wondered what that smile meant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She showed Wilbur her favorite spots in the village from a small table right by the window in a small bakery to a creek that ran off from the river that led into a waterfall into a pond. They would switch off buying each other sweets from the bakery and taking dives into the pond when the heat seemed unbearable. And under a great oak tree on a hill overlooking the village, Wilbur would sing to her like he did that one day in the woods as they stared at the stars. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were seventeen and falling in love too fast. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Days bled into weeks into months and still, Phil and Wilbur stayed in the village. At dawn, Sally continued to go and learn under Phil’s firm but kind hand, growing better by the minute. And Wilbur would still be there to drag her away, showing her the small things that Sally barely thought of before. But in the end, they would hold hands and smile at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was the warrior and he was the poet. She was a cynic and he was a dreamer. She was the night and he was the day. She was the water and he was the fire. She was a lot of things and he always matched her because a little part of Sally’s head told her that they were soulmates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Sally didn’t believe in fate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She told him that one night, when the sun was slowly setting and they were back on the hill where it seemed like they could see everything. Wilbur had laughed, telling her that it was fate because one flap of a butterfly’s wings could have sent them miles apart and they would have never met. But Sally was too drunk on Wilbur’s laugh and the soft look in his eyes that she didn’t try to refute it then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, however, was a different story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the last of the light finally disappeared, the two began to walk home. They held hands and his hand was warm as opposed to the coolness of hers. He brought her up the steps to the door of the book shop, gently kissing her forehead. He began to walk home but Wilbur looked back one final time, waving goodbye. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was the last time she would ever see him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she woke, it was in a state of panic because the bell that hung in the middle of the village was ringing. She was still dressed in her nightgown when her and her parents ran out in the rain of the morning like the rest of the village people. There were people there on horses, yelling for Phil to show himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The day Phil and Wilbur disappeared was cold and raining. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the hunters finally left, Sally sprinted to the inn and to the part they stayed in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It looked like they had never been there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But during the summer they spent together, Wilbur explained that he always hid items under the floorboards because of a book he once read. He told her the story of a man who killed an old man and hid the dismembered body under the floorboards. The cops had come because a neighbor heard screaming and the man was so sure he pulled it off until he heard the rhythmic thumping of the old man’s heart. The man went insane to the sound and confessed to the cops that he did it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he told her that story, Sally had rolled her eyes and called it stupid because the body was dead and thus the heart couldn’t beat. Wilbur only smiled at her, telling her that there was never a heartbeat but rather the man’s own insanity. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And as Sally searched for a loose floorboard, she wondered if this was what insanity felt like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, she found one and wrenched it open, hoping and praying that Wilbur had enough time to write a goodbye. And when she found a note in the secret compartment, she felt like crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It read:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My dearest Sally, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m afraid this is the final time I will write for you. My father has been told that hunters are coming for us and that we have to move again. I thought about arguing, begging to stay but I don’t want to put you in danger. I know you could have handled yourself but I simply cannot bear the thought, the threat of losing you for good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>At least I know as I write this, that you will be safe. And at least I know that you will be able to continue on without me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I promised a lot of things to you, my love, many that I should have known were unattainable. But I was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, we were going to be alright and that the past wouldn’t come calling for us again like the birds in the morning. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sally, I’m sorry. I cannot begin to express my sorrow for leaving you behind when I promised you a life with me but you don’t deserve a life on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder. You deserve pastries with too much sugar on them. You deserve cold ponds with lily pads floating along the top of them. You deserve everything and I couldn’t give you that. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’m sorry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let it be said and always remembered that I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I don’t think that I will ever stop truly loving you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love everything about you. The way you scrunch your nose up when you don’t block an attack you felt like you should have blocked. The way you gently kiss the sugar off the corner of my mouth. The way your eyes flare up when a monster comes too close. The way you move in a fight that could be compared to dancing across a ballroom floor. The way you smile at me when you thought I wasn’t looking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My love, you deserve a beautiful story and a soft epilogue. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And I’m sorry that I can’t be a part of it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I know you don’t believe in fate but I do. I believe in a lot of things but most of all, I believe in you. You can go on and forget about me. You can fall in love again and find the ending that you truly deserve. You can smile and laugh and find someone that can give you the stars.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could only tell you stories of them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sally, I don’t know what is going to happen next but I know that this is goodbye. I will try to come back to you but I don’t know and neither do you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe, one day, fate will let us cross paths once more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But for now, I will say I love you and goodbye.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Goodbye, my love. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<ul>
<li><em><span>Wilbur Soot</span></em></li>
</ul><p> </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He never came back,” Sally held her own hands softly. “I stayed in the village for a long time until finally realizing that he would never come back. And I left.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did he not come back?” Tubbo asked quietly, as if they were afraid that the night would be shattered if he talked any louder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Sally admitted. “Maybe he’s still on the run, maybe he’s dead. But, in the autumn, I found out I was pregnant with Fundy. I had him at the beginning of summer and raised him in the village. Fundy looks more like me but he has so much of his father in him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fundy only looked at her. “Do you think he would be proud?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Kit,” Sally whispered reverently. “He would have been so proud of you. He would have loved you so much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The summer night felt just like that night long ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He would love it here, in L’Manburg.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sally looked at the people she now called family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He would have loved all of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The special place used to be under that oak tree, looking up at the stars. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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